


And if I Seem Over-Amorous

by Ray_Writes



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Ten is a Lovesick Puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Writes/pseuds/Ray_Writes
Summary: The Doctor and Donna escape under a starry sky.





	And if I Seem Over-Amorous

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing really to explain here, folks. Title taken from Dean Martin's "The Night is Young, and You're So Beautiful". Thank you for reading, let me know your thoughts, and please enjoy!

The Doctor’s nose twitched.

Hay, mulch, animal fur, possibly manure. Those smells and more were emanating from the tarp laid over he and Donna. A farmer named Yarnup who had been in for the weekly market to sell some of his yield had been kind enough to offer to smuggle them in his wagon out of the city and back to the TARDIS. If he’d had any idea the assault his nostrils would have to endure, however, the Doctor might have been willing to risk recapture by the king’s guards.

They’d been stuck under this tarp for what seemed an  _ eternity _ . And he ought to know, being the Lord of Time and all that.

“I can’t do this,” he choked out. “Do you have any idea how strong my sense of smell is? This is torture.”

“This was your idea,” Donna hissed which, well, was true. But it wasn’t as if he’d known about this bit!

“Donna, I need—” Not being able to come up with the right words — or perhaps not daring to articulate then — he simply rolled over and stuck his nose in her hair.

At once he was surrounded by lavender, and the Doctor let out a sigh of relief. It made sense, he supposed; Donna seemed quite fond of purple. He wondered what shampoo she used.

Donna started, but remained more or less where she was when he made no other move to touch her. “Better are we, Martian?”

“Mm-hm.”

Donna grumbled a bit more, but stayed put. She really was a true friend.

“And what am I supposed to do then?” She asked. The Doctor gestured vaguely to the space between them. “Oh you are  _ kidding _ .”

“Your choice,” he muttered, and counted himself rather lucky when she didn’t smack him.

Instead, after a moment of silence in which Donna was clearly debating what was worth more, her pride or her olfactory nerves, she shuffled closer and turned her face into his shoulder.

After a moment, he thought he heard her sniff.

“Do you wear cologne or is this just you? No, never mind, forget I asked,” she said before he could even open his mouth.

She’d been doing that, lately, a small part of him couldn’t help but to notice. Asking rather personal questions, agreeing that he was pretty, seeming...curious. That same small part of him was trying desperately not read anything into it. Or to hope.

Their farmer friend’s wagon stopped again and both he and Donna were still, if huddled slightly closer together. Neither of them dared to breathe as someone’s footsteps approached the back.

The tarp was abruptly yanked off them.

“We’ve passed the checkpoints — oh, sorry,” said Yarnup once he’d caught sight of the two of them lying together.

“We weren’t—”

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Donna sat up and away from him.

“We should be to the lake and your box soon. An hour at most. Best to get comfy, eh?” The farmer asked with a grin, then walked back around to the front of his wagon. The Doctor didn’t dare look at Donna. He fell back and crossed his arms above his head.

“This bit shouldn’t be so bad. Anyway, the stars are out. Whole different galaxy up there than you’re used to.”

He thought he could hear the rolling of Donna’s eyes, but she at least settled down onto the floor of the wagon again as they set off at a trot.

“Yeah, lovely weather we’re having.”

“That's the spirit,” he praised.

They were quiet for a few minutes, listening to the skittering of the two Dinoperies — large, domesticated ants — pulling the wagon and the turning of the wheels. Yarnup was whistling to pass the time.

“So how long do you think it'll take for the king to realize we switched out his Vision Glass for a funhouse mirror?” Donna asked eventually.

“Oh, I imagine the next time he tries to prove how all-knowing he is by spying on his own people. Should make for an interesting day at court.”

The two of them laughed, rolling in the hay that was strewn about them.

They went over a particularly large bump in the road, and Donna winced.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just hard to get comfy without knocking your head every other one.”

“Here.” He rolled onto his side and laid out his arm, patting it invitingly.

“Oh, sure, there's loads of cushioning built in there,” she remarked dryly, but shifted closer again nonetheless. “Wait, what about you?”

“I’ll be alright,” he dismissed. When Donna refused to come the rest of the way over, however, he sighed and then set about shrugging out of his coat. Once that had been managed, the Doctor balled it up and stuck it under his head. “Do I meet your standards now?”

“Excuse me for looking out for that big brain of yours,” Donna grumbled. She laid her head on his arm, lightly at first as if expecting him to complain. Then with an exhale she settled down fully.

Her arms crossed over her chest and brushed against his as a clear demarcation of the border between them. Although that became a bit blurry when it came to the subject of their legs. The Doctor focused on breathing evenly in and out as she shuffled about finding a position that didn't leave one of her knees wedged between his. The fingers of his other hand curled into a fist, the nails digging into his palm.

Donna kept her eyes on his the whole time. They were very close and very bright in the starlight.

This had been a dangerous mistake.

The Doctor licked his lips and admired Donna's fortitude in not watching him do so. If he had half her strength there wouldn't be a problem. But there was no point contemplating the what ifs. No matter which thread of which timeline he followed, there was no conceivable version of events in which he did not fall for his best friend.

“So,” he began, then realized he hadn't actually thought up an end to that sentence. “Nice night. Stars out.”

“We did that bit, Spaceman,” Donna reminded, smiling up at him. Probably thought he was hopeless.

“Oh.”

“Do they do constellations here, too? Pick out patterns, make up names for them, that sort of thing?”

“Everyone does constellations, Donna,” he said. “They’re some of the very first stories of any civilization. People can’t help but to look up and marvel at the beauty of the universe.”

Yarnup was singing now, something soft and low. He couldn’t make out the words, but it was quite nice. Really just enhanced the whole mood, even if there wasn’t supposed to be a mood. He really was rubbish at following his own rules.

Donna indicated the vast night sky above them with a tilt of the head, then pillowed her head on his arm again, just a little closer this time. “Do you know any of these ones?”

“Oh,” he said, making no move to look away. He reached out and plucked a bit of hay from her hair. Everything was lavender; everything was Donna. The Doctor smiled. “Maybe a few.”


End file.
